


[jɛn]

by ilikeyoubecauseyouredifferent



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Disability, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeyoubecauseyouredifferent/pseuds/ilikeyoubecauseyouredifferent
Summary: A story about Yennefer's childhood/abuse, how she met Tissaia, and her early years at Aretuza.(how does one even write a summary?!)
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 17
Kudos: 55





	1. The Child

**Author's Note:**

> ok lovely lot, this is my first ever fic! (apologies for any mistakes, i wrote this at 2 a.m. lol)  
> comments, constructive criticism, and suggestions are greatly encouraged and appreciated, but please be kind :) also, do you guys want me to continue this? let me know! 
> 
> until then, all the love! <3
> 
> d.

The sun had just risen over Vengerberg. The air was so biting cool, not even the pigs were keen to go outside. Morning dew collected itself on the long spears of grass that grew without any care behind the small house. Though no one dared to disturb the quietness of the morning just yet, the small girl with the crooked spine had been awake for two hours already.

Yennefer’s back ached as she lifted the heavy bucket full of pig swill outside of the pigsty just behind the small hut. The bucket was way too heavy for a girl her age, and her tight muscles ached as she struggled to fill the feed trough.

Even the life of a pig is better than mine, Yennefer thought with a sneer on her pale face. Her short, black hair was matted to her sweaty forehead.  
At least then I would know for certain’ that they’d want me for slaughter. Her heart ached when she thought about her parents. They’d never regarded her as a person. Just because she looked like a monster doesn’t mean that she had no heart. Or feelings and thoughts.

Though her mother never spoke directly to her, Yennefer knew that she resented her. She could see it in her face. Whenever she looked at her, she had that cold and disgusted look on her face. Like she’d just seen someone torturing an animal for fun. This look hurt her more than her father’s words or hands ever could.

Lost in her own thoughts Yennefer stumbled over a little tree root and fell face first in a moody puddle. Her thin clothes were now soaked in muddy water, and she shuddered, as the cold now reached deep into her bones.

“Fuck”, Yennefer muttered in a raspy voice. She never used her voice much. Her father hated it when she talked. And it wasn’t like she had many people to talk to anyways. Father didn’t even have to forbid her talking to the other kids of the village; they were afraid of her anyways. They called her a beast, monster even. One boy, Rurolf, once suggested hiring a Witcher to put her out of her misery. At the time she was deeply terrified. Now she wished that they would have hired that Witcher already.

The girl slowly pushed herself of the muddy ground. The joints in her shaky legs popped as she finally pulled herself off the ground. As she lifted her head, her breath caught in her throat. This was her favorite time of the day. Sunrise. All the different colors dancing upon the sky, painting the clouds and not caring if anyone or anything watched this magnificent event.

One day I’m going to go where the sky touches the earth the lightest, Yennefer thought, and then I will be as beautiful as the clouds and my voice will be as sweet as the song of the birds. Everyone will want to listen to me and marvel at my beauty.

She tried to stop her emotions, but her dream was so beautiful that her violet eyes glazed over with tears. She didn’t dare letting even a single drop fall, even as her lips quivered.

The sound of a wooden door being slammed open blew her dream away like a breeze would blow away a puff of smoke on an early autumn day. Her heart started to speed up as she knew what was about to come.

Heavy stomps hit the ground, an angry gruff was heard around the corner of the house. “You useless child!” Yennefer’s body went rigid. She fixed her stoic face on the ground as she could hear him stalking towards her. “You can’t even do the simplest things! Should have sold you to the whore caravan when I had the chance. At least that coin would ‘ave brought be a decent pig!”, he roared. Even though the girl was used to his words, it still stung every time he said those hurtful things.

Yennefer’s head snapped to the side as the ringing of the slap ricocheted through the cool morning air. A burning sensation spread over her right cheek, and she knew an angry red mark was already beginning to show.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Her father was now very close. She could almost taste his foul smelling breath and felt the spit that flew out of his mouth land on her face. She fixed her now fearful gaze on his round face. His small round eyes held an ancient range inside of them. His beard was now almost completely white as the years have been very unkind to him. He was about the same size as Yennefer but whereas her body was sickly thin, he was a round man. Almost as broad as he was tall. Carmir never provided any food for his family. Giving his wife very little of what they’ve earned and Yennefer nothing at all. She mostly ate the scrapes of what the pigs wouldn’t eat. She always ate at night, so her father wouldn’t notice.

“I thought you finally got it into your head how to treat your elders, but it seems that not only is your spine twisted, so must be your brain”, he sneered in his thick accent. His stubby fingers wrapped around her wrist, holding it painfully. Yennefer whimpered as Carmir pulled her along behind himself. Her bare feet ached, and she could hardly feel them anymore. She lost her footing a couple of times, which only made her father pull harder and squeeze her already aching wrist tighter.

At that moment, Yennefer send out a silent prayer to the Gods or anyone who might be listening. Please, anyone, give me the rest I cannot get in this world.

Carmir came to an abrupt stop in front of a seemingly endless amount of firewood logs. “You will stack all the wood against the house and will do so in less than two candle marks or else I will make sure that you will never be able to smell wood again!” And with these words, he let go over her already bruised wrist and marched back to the front door of the tiny house. Yennefer watched him as if she were in trance and only snapped out of this state as the wooden door slammed shut. As she looked around their backyard, she felt her chest constrict and her heart sink. She would never be able to do this in under two candle marks.

The numerous splints in her hands prevented her from grabbing another log. Her vision blurred for the seemingly hundredth time, and she swayed on her feed. The dehydration was getting to her and even though Yennefer knew this was a painful way to go, she hoped that she would leave soon.

As she heard the sucking noise of boots being pushed in moody puddles, her head seemed to magically clear itself of its fogginess. An icy hand seemed to grab her heart as she looked at the dozen logs that hadn’t been stacked yet. Her father was beside himself with anger, she could smell it in the air. His bitterness mixed with the smell of the wildflowers that grew on the patch of grass beside her feet. What a perverse mixture.

“Useless! Absolutely useless!”, her father screamed. His hand grabbed a fist of her hair and yanked her to the ground. Yennefer hissed as her knees hit the ground hard. Her vision blurred again just as her father’s boot hit her in the stomach. The air was sucked from the girl’s lungs and even though she was familiar with this procedure, it never hurt any less, and the fear was always as permanent.

Yennefer’s whole body hit the ground. Another kick made contact with her fragile ribs and the girl could make out the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Just as Yennefer was about to beg for unconsciousness the trotting of a horse and the wheels of a card nearing their house could be heard.


	2. Skylark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first, i'm sorry this took me so long (uni work, life etc.) BUT: here it is, the second chapter! (very short again, but they will get longer, promise) also, i wanted to say that i have not read the books (i'm planing to), so i apologise for any inaccuracies. (and mistakes)   
> i also wanted to thank every single one of you again for the comments and kudos, u guys are amazing!
> 
> happy reading and have a good week <3 (don't forget to let me know what you think!)

The vapour leaving Yennefer’s mouth could be seen as she lay on the ground, panting. Her bruised face was halfway covered in mud, part of her crooked jaw already turning blue. A shiver shook her body as she was uncertain about what would happen next. Her father had never been interrupted during one of her punishments. 

A dark brown cart stopped in front of the wooden gate of their house. Carmir stared up at the woman who sat on top of the cart. She wore a deep red cloak; a black fur collar adorned her neck. Her face was stoic, the epitome of indifference. Had he not seen her lift her arms he would have believed she was made out of stone. 

The mysterious woman turned her head and took in the scene before her. The air smelled of pig shit and sweat, a pull at the base of her neck let her know that she was in the right place. This girl’s chaos was strong. 

Yennefer’s breath became more ragged, never had she seen such a beautiful person before. But then she almost chuckled, she hadn’t seen many people to begin with. 

The woman descended from the cart and let her gaze wander. First, she looked at the miserable excuse of a house, where the farmer’s wife now stood, having grown curious about what was going on; then, her gaze went to the monster on the ground. If the woman hadn’t been so well-trained in controlling her features, she might have let one eyebrow raise in surprise. This girl had mesmerizing violet eyes. Her gaze was full of agony and despair, but behind that, the woman could see a fire rage stronger than she’d ever seen before. 

“How much for a pig?”, she asked with an attitude of indifference. 

Startled, Carmir mustered the stoic woman in front of him. Her straight posture, her gloved hands, her expensive cloak. This wasn’t the type of person who went outside to do a farmhands work. No, something wasn’t right here. 

“Eight marks”, answered Yennefer’s father in a gruff voice. “And not one less, woman!”

“And how much for the girl?”, came the woman’s reply, completely ignoring the man’s answer.

Yennefer’s eyes widened. She couldn’t be serious. Who was this woman? Surely her father wouldn’t sell-

“Six marks!”, her father said without hesitation. Yennefer felt tears well up in her eyes. Her breathing suddenly became laboured.

“Four”, the mysterious woman replied, speaking in a monotone voice. 

Carmir frowned and looked down at Yennefer with complete disregard. She was still laying on the muddy ground when a crisp word rang out: “Sold.”

Yennefer started shaking, tears now streaming down her face. Her chest was constricting painfully. Never had she ever felt such pain before. Sold for half the price of a scrawny pig. From her own parents, nonetheless. 

The woman in the deep red cloak put the four coins in the outstretched hand of Carmir. A sneer now noticeable on her face. She couldn’t believe that they really sold her for four marks. 

“Now then piglet, it’s time to go”, the woman said.   
“No! No! I won’t be going; you can’t make me!” Yennefer’s screams were heard all the way to the tavern down the street. She craned her neck to look for her mother on the porch. Her stomach sank. There was no one standing on the porch any more. 

The wagon rocked gently as they rolled down the dirt road. Tissaia held the rains in such a tight grip, she knew that her knuckles must be as white as the snow that lay on the Koviri Mountains. The sorceress was well aware that the death she had given the farmer was way too quick and painless, but she had a tight schedule to follow.

Yennefer sat on the very edge of the cart, her back facing the other woman. Her fragile body shook with silent sobs, and she shivered, as her ragged clothes couldn’t keep the cool air from crawling into her bones. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she thought about what would happen to her now. Would this woman sell her to the next whorehouse? Would she kill her? Would she be the next court entertainment? 

Yennefer was startled out of her thoughts as a gentle warmth engulfed her. Unable to comprehend what’s going on, she raised a hand to her forehead, thinking she must have gotten a fever. But her body itself wasn’t warm, it felt more like she was engulfed in a warm hug. She twisted her head around to look at the woman holding the reins of the cart. Her face was stoic, her gaze fixed straight ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line. This couldn’t be her doing, she wasn’t even touching her. Yennefer’s thoughts were interrupted as the hairs on her neck started to stand, a tingling sensation ran through her limps. She looked down in astonishment, not knowing what was happening to her. As she lifted her head to look at her surroundings, her breath got stuck in her throat.

Yennefer was now sure that she ran a fever so high, she must be hallucinating. Where once were the green fields of Vengerberg was now a smooth stone ceiling so high, she couldn’t even see where it ended. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice that they weren’t outside any more and that the cart had come to a stop. 

Tissaia dismounted the cart and looked at the disfigured girl who observed the halls of Loxia. 

Clearing her throat, Tissaia spoke in a firm tone. “My name is Tissaia de Vries, Arch-mistress, and Rectoress of Aretuza.” She expected to be met with an onslaught of questions from the girl, but there was only silence. The girl stumbled from the cart, almost landing on her already damaged face. When she finally found her footing, she simply stood there, staring at the ground. 

As amazed as Yennefer was, she didn’t dare make a single sound. Her whole body ached, she was tired, her stomach grumbled, but she was more than used to the hunger by now. 

Pursing her lips, the woman, Tissaia, spoke “Follow me, piglet.”

While they walked down several halls in silence, the Rectoress started to speak again as they neared an elegant looking staircase. “Aretuza is an academy for young ladies capable of doing magic.” Yennefer stumbled. Magic? Surely someone like her was not capable of magic. Only beautiful, intelligent people were sorceresses and sorcerers, not beasts like her.   
Still, Yennefer didn’t say anything. 

“You will learn everything there is to learn here, yet you will only be able to succeed if you have what it takes to ascend.” 

They came to a halt in front of the last door on a quiet corridor. “This will be your room, piglet. Your first lesson will be in the greenhouse tomorrow morning. Do not be late, I will not accept any kind of tardiness.” And with that, Tissaia turned around and stalked down the corridor. 

Yennefer stood in front of the door for a long time. Her room? Yennefer had never owned anything before. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she grabbed the door handle and entered the room. 

The first thing she noticed after entering was the plate of steaming hot food on top of a brown desk next to a small window. In the far-right corner was a small bed, where a simple light blue dress lay on a grey quilt. The window was slightly opened, and a fresh breeze entered the room. This strong smell of salt was something Yennefer had never experienced before, and she walked towards the window. What she saw there made her eyes widen. Huge amounts of water crashing against sharp rocks and cliffs.   
Shocked by this sight, Yennefer stumbled backwards and hit her hip at the edge of the desk. The dull throb made her look down. Only then did she notice the small container of ointment next to the plate.  
And suddenly, everything clicked. This was a trap. Some sick, twisted joke. The food, the ointment, the bed, they wanted to lure her in, so they could punish her mostly cruelly later on, for taking something that wasn’t hers to take or use. 

Yennefer’s back hit the stone wall as her knees gave out, and she slit to the ground.   
A gut-wrenching sob pushed itself out of her lungs as tears streamed down her swollen cheeks. She hugged her knees to her chest. Suddenly a note written on white parchment landed next to her. The breeze had blown it from the desk to the ground where the girl sat and cried. Yennefer picked it up and a fresh set of tears rolled down her cheeks. Even though the neat handwriting was pretty to look at, she couldn’t read it. She had never learned it; father forbade her.  
Enraged, the girl crumbled up the note and threw it in the far-left corner of her room, where the words "This is your home now. -Skylark" would stay unread for a long time.


End file.
